Snap
by erinjeni
Summary: Bella Swan has been waging an internal war with herself since her mother's death a year ago. She puts on a near flawless show of smiles and laughs to her family, friends, and boyfriend as her senior year of high school begins. Will her war ever surface, or will a mysterious text spur a ceasefire? AH Cannon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I've been inspired.**

Chapter One

**Paradise**

_When she was just a girl,_

_she expected the world,_

_but it flew away from her reach,_

_and the bullets catch in her teeth. _

**BPOV**

"Right now it's seven o'clock in the morning, and you're listening to The Swan Morning Show. It's eighty-three degrees and sunny today in the city, with clouds later on in the day. This is Charlie Swan, and if you're just tuning in, we're taking calls about the benefits of breast feeding," my dad wailed through my alarm clock radio. I couldn't bear to listen anymore, and took no time in bringing my hand down on that alarm clock radio like Thor's hammer.

I felt like I usually did after one of my restless nights. I wasn't tired. I'd only gone to sleep about four hours ago. It was like I took a little siesta. I knew I would pay for it during class when I was catching z's and every other letter of the alphabet instead of learning. Last night, I could only think about my mom: her smile, her eyes, her voice… her death. It had been almost half a year since she passed away, but the pain that filled me crown to toe when I thought about her still felt fresh. She was alive just months ago.

I rolled over, assuaging the morning light behind my closed eyelids. My eyes were probably a little bit swollen. I'd let a few tears past the Berlin Wall that I usually put up in front of people. Rose had stayed the night, and she'd seen me cry before, but I didn't indulge in that vulnerability. I let my mind wander aimlessly, deciding whether or not to get up, like a cow in a meadow awaiting it's inevitable butchering. I heard Rose shuffle in her sleep, and couldn't prolong getting up much longer. She would kill me if I let her sleep in too late.

"Rose." I croaked. She rolled toward me, still asleep, and her arm flung out, effectively slapping me across my chest. "Ouch," I drawled out in a whisper, "you bitch." I rolled myself over to grab something out from under my bed. The cool, long metal can felt righteous in my vengeful palm. My thumb rested peacefully on the rubber trigger. I listened to her light snoring, and let her feel content for a minute longer before bringing my thumb down harshly and letting the bullhorn crack a fissure in the peace. Rose let out a broken scream, shattering the morning's serenity, and sat up. I quickly threw away the can, the only evidence that connected me to the noise.

Rose, being her super keen self, caught onto me after her brief panic. Her wide eyes drew a narrow gaze at me. She haphazardly threw a pillow my way, but it only landed on my resting figure with a light thump. "You said you got rid of that, Bella!" she yelled, taking another pillow and pushing it into her face until she lay back down again. I shrugged from under my blanket.

"Watch where you throw your arms," I explained with a yawn.

"I hate you."

"I know," I answered, snuggling my cheek further into my pillow, my body into my blanket. We were both silent for a few minutes. I looked up at the time. It was ten past seven. I rocked myself a little bit to gain some momentum before finally pushing myself into an upright position. The blanket still hung onto my shoulders. My mom had quilted it for me when she was first bed ridden. It was just a simple, white blanket with my name embroidered in pink at the top of it. I couldn't bring myself to sleep without it.

"Seriously, Rose, time to get up," I coaxed, letting my muscles tighten to stand, and then stretching them as far as I could. My charm bracelet from Jake rolled down my arm as I brought my arms above my head. Crap, Jake. I looked through the blankets and pillows on my side of the bed, but couldn't find my phone. "Rose, get up," I ordered. She groaned in response, but made no indication that she'd be moving any time soon. I started looking around her anyway. My hands groped around her body, trying to make contact with the crappy black plastic. Rose hummed.

"At least buy me a drink first," she joked in her sleeping stupor. I brought my hands up and rolled her body off the bed. She yelped, tried to grab onto the bed, and brought her blanket and two pillows down with her.

"Aha!" I triumphed, grabbing my not smart phone from its previous position under one of the pillows that fell to the floor with Rosalie. I had six new messages.

"You are such a bitch," Rose mumbled from the floor, finally sitting up and acknowledging life. "I don't know why I'm friends with you," she muttered, throwing her upper body into the air to stand up. Her 'reduce, reuse, recycle' shirt rode up to her belly button with the fall. She blushed as she pulled it down hastily. I never understood why she always did that. She was stick thin and had curves to die for.

She stood a good four inches taller than I was, but didn't tower over me as much as one might think she would. Her personality shrunk her to size. While she was tall, blonde, and beautiful, she was kind, warm, and charitable. She seemed to always be volunteering for something. Last Spring, she went to Thailand to build up orphanages. The summer before that, she was in Tennessee building houses for people in need. She stopped at nothing to donate her free time for others. That's how we met. She'd tutored me in Chemistry freshman year. I'd been a year ahead than all the other freshmen in science, but I still had trouble. If it wasn't for her, I'd probably still have been taking chemistry with all the sophomores as a senior.

I clutched at my chest. "You wound me." She rolled her eyes and put her overnight bag on my bed to grab her clothes for our first day of senior year. I had taken a shower last night so I'd have loose waves this morning, instead of either dealing with wet hair or having to blow dry. Rose had taken a shower last night, too, but her hair was always straight. She went to the bathroom to change while I changed in the room.

I slipped on a pair of ripped shorts that made my butt look vivacious. Then, I put on a black Bando and a dark blue translucent blouse that I hadn't worn for a couple of weeks, but worked well with my semi-pale skin, and glanced at myself in the mirror. I hadn't thought too much about what I would wear today. It was just another school day.

"But it's your last first day of high school," my mom would probably sap. I didn't sap about anything. Sap is for syrup, and syrup is for pancakes.

"Hurry up, and we can get pancakes before first bell!" I yelled to Rose. Right on cue, the water stopped running. She rushed into the room with a giant grin on her face. I slipped into the bathroom. A quick glance at my supposed "loose, wavy hair" had me cringing. So much for that. I could blame it on my restlessness, probably. I brought my head upside down and began French braiding my hair from the nape of my neck and down. As I reach the curvature of the top of my skull, I brought the rest of my hair into a slightly messy bun. Classy.

I gave myself a minute to look at my text messages. Four of the six were from Jake.

_ Hey, babe. You sleeping?_

_ Hello?_

_ I miss you._

I shook my head and laughed. These were from last night. No point in answering them, no matter how sweet they were. One was from this morning.

_ Good morning. :) Do you need a ride to school?_

This one I could answer.

_ No, thanks, Rose is driving. We're going for pancakes at the diner. You should come._

Less than a minute passed before I heard a buzz from my phone.

_ See you there._

I smiled, knowing that I'd see him soon. He always knew how to make me smile. Another text I got was from my dad.

_ Good luck on your first day. There's money with your mother for lunch. xo Dad_

I rolled my eyes. The money would be next to my mother's urn in the living room. He was so weird sometimes. I shook my head at the thought of her urn in the house. We had originally planned to do something with her ashes, but we couldn't decide what. I'd suggested bringing them back to Arizona where she grew up, but he'd refused. We haven't spoken about it since.

Another text was from a number I didn't recognize. The area code was from Forks.

_Hey, are you okay?_

I didn't answer, not wanting to embarrass the sender by asking who it was. Instead, I brushed my teeth with my Spiderman toothbrush and was soon on my way to fluffy, syrup-covered pancakes.

"So, how did you sleep?" Rosalie asked as we sped toward Whitlock's Diner. A local family owned it. One of the boys in our grade was the owners' son. He was one of Rose's ex-boyfriends turned best friend. Jasper and Rosalie hadn't been compatible at all, but his diner was a popular place to go in Forks, so I hadn't minded the free food that came with their relationship. Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock had like Rosalie so much, that they still gave us free food after the break up.

"Fine," I lied, stifling a yawn that just tried to bubble up. She gave me a patronizing glance before looking back at the road. I set my eyes on the passing scenery.

"Are you okay?" I knew why she was asking. My stomach clenched hard. I expertly ignored any pretense of tears that would normally build up when I was alone. It was my first day of senior year and my mom wasn't here to see it. Rosalie didn't need to know how heartbroken I was. How much a yearned to have hugged and kissed her before I left the house just minutes ago. How much I'd wanted to hear her say "Good luck, Bella!" and cry over how grown up I was. I was crying instead.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" I questioned, knowing she'd see right through me. I put on a giant grin. She studied me for a moment. "We're seniors!" I yelled, letting my arm hand out the window to take on the rush of wind that surrounded the moving vehicle. Rose rolled her eyes and put down her sunglasses as we turned into a parking spot by the diner. When we both got out of the car, I remembered the mystery text I got. "Hey, do you know this number?" I read off the ten-digit number that had texted me this morning. She took out her phone and called the number, but hung up quickly.

"It's not saved in my phone," she shrugged. I shrugged with her. We walked into the diner, a bell announcing our arrival, and easily found Jake sitting in a corner booth with Jasper. As soon as he saw us, he got up and walked to me.

"My lady," he murmured, bringing me into a hug. I smiled into his shoulder, reveling in him. He was much taller than I was, tan-skinned with his Native American heritage, with short black hair. His eyes were a swirl of dark brown and forest green. I loved them. When he acted like this, it was hard to remember how controlling he was at times.

"Hey, Jake," I greeted, pulling myself out of his grasp and kissing him chastely on the lips. He smiled at me and led me to the table where Rosalie already sat with Jasper, probably talking about their upcoming trip to New Orleans with Habitat for Humanity the week of Thanksgiving. They sure weren't compatible as a couple, but they were like an extreme volunteer duo. I was glad that she'd found someone else to take to the soup kitchens and award dinners. I mean, I loved to volunteer, too, and I did go often, but I was glad that I didn't feel pressured to go anymore.

"What can I get y'all?" Mrs. Whitlock asked in her lovely southern accent. I pointed to Rose and me with a grin.

"A stack of pancakes for both of us."

"Me too," Jake added.

"Me three," Jasper piped up in his own southern drawl. The Whitlock's had come to Seattle from Texas to share with the North what food could really taste like.

"Orange juice good for everyone?" she asked. We all nodded, and with that, she was gone.

I partook in idle chatter about what teachers everyone had and what electives everyone chose. I talked about my photography class like it was just another class, but I was actually really excited to get started. I'd found one of my mom's old cameras in her closet a few months ago, and couldn't wait to get to use it. I was quiet for the most part, trying to keep my thoughts away from her. The mysterious text popped into my mind again.

"Hey, guys," I interrupted one of Jake's classic imitations of one of the less than kind lunch ladies. Everyone stopped and looked at me. I guess I hadn't spoken more than I thought I hadn't. "Um, sorry," I muttered, resigning to wait until Jake was finished.

"No, what is it, babe?" Jake beckoned for me to continue.

"Do either of you know this number?" I read off the number once again. Both boys took out his cell phone to dial in the number.

"It wasn't in my phone," Rose explained. Jakes brows dipped toward the center of his face.

"Yeah, it's not in my phone either. Sorry. Why?" I told him that a number had texted me this morning before I woke up.

"It's probably a wrong number," I settled, starting to type a typical 'wrong number' response.

"Wait," Jasper said, typing something into his phone. He asked what the number was again and I repeated it. "That's, um, Cullen's number," he answered, his face the epitome of confusion. The look on my face probably mirrored his.

"Cullen? As in Edward Cullen?" I tried to clarify. Jasper nodded. A flash of bronze hair and bright green eyes dance in my memory.

"That would be the one." He clarified. I shrugged.

"Weird," I whispered, getting rid of the 'wrong message' text I was about to send and saving the mysterious number under the name 'Edward Cullen.'

**Review and tell me if I should go on.**

**I have plans, but I don't want to carry on if no one wants me to.**

**-Erinjeni, reed4funxeb**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**The World Spins Madly On**

_I let the day go by _

_I always say goodbye_

_I watch the stars from my windowsill _

_The whole world is moving and I'm standing still_

**BPOV**

I had just stepped out of Rose's car in the school parking lot when I heard a familiar small voice a few feet away.

"Bella?" By the way she whined my name, I knew she wanted something from me. I rolled my eyes and faced my little sister. Her hair was a dark brown, almost black, and wavy. I envied its shape when mine hung thick and straight. The only thing about her hair that I didn't envy was its length. My hair was long, past the middle of my back, while hers only came just a few inches past her shoulders. We always fought about whose hair was nicer. She argued that I never had to straighten mine. I argued that my hair didn't take shape to any curl or wave. The argument remained at a stalemate, even though she had beach hair every day without the salty treatment of the ocean in her locks.

"What do you want, Jane?" Her dark brown eyes, also darker than mine, begged mischievously. Rose stopped to wait for me, but I nudged my head toward the school for her to go on without me. She didn't hesitate, and left.

I didn't even bother rolling or narrowing my eyes at Jane. I was used to being somewhat of an authority figure to her. I'd had to when mom started getting sick. I remembered the morning of the first day of the wake when Jane had been feeling nauseous.

"Bella, I can't go. I feel like I'm gonna throw up," she'd whimpered, her hands mingling with the hem of her black skirt. Her hair was straightened and tucked under a pink headband, the only color she sported other than black. A few tears splashed onto the backs of her hands. I sat down next to her and began to brush her hair like Mom used to.

"I know how you feel," I sighed. I continued to brush her hair in silence for a while.

"I really don't feel good," she repeated, bringing her hands up to her stomach.

I turned her around and just hugged her. She held on tight, probably pretending

I was Mom, but I could never be Mom. I suddenly felt panic bubble in my stomach, reaching its way to my chest.

"Here," I rummaged through my bag and handed her a few aspirin. "Take these and I'll meet you downstairs." She nodded and wiped at her tears. Pressure started to build up in my chest. I started breathing heavily. Just then, I got a text from Rose.

_ Hey, how are you?_

My fingers shook as I typed an honest response to my best friend.

_Not good. Jane doesn't feel well. I don't want to take care of her. I can't be _

_Mom._

I let a few tears slip past the blockade I was preparing for today. My phone buzzed.

_ So, don't. Be Bella. See you soon._

I nodded at the phone, wiped away any moisture from my face, and applied more eyeliner and cover up before heading downstairs to join Jane.

Now, she looked up at me needing something that she couldn't get from Mom. I just sighed heavily, feigning annoyance when all I wanted to do was cry. I'd only been a freshman, a year younger than Jane was now, when Mom first started getting sick.

"Did Dad leave you money for lunch?" By the time she asked, a group of her friends had gathered behind her. I only recognized a few: Lauren, Demetri, and Tanya. My little sister was a popular girl. People who hadn't known her in her first year of high school sure knew her after Mom's passing had been announced to the school that March. I'd been home with my family when it happened, but from what I'd heard, the entire school went silent for the rest of the day. Some of the teachers had stopped teaching, and let some of my more emotional acquaintances cry. Rosalie, Jasper, and Jake were in the guidance counselor's office the whole day. Rose had told me that. I didn't ask her about it. She got upset when she thought about that day.

"Yea, he left some with Mom," I chuckled, noticing confused expressions among the teens behind her. Jane rolled her eyes, and flashed me a weak smile.

"You are so morbid." I gave her fifteen dollars, probably too much, and left five for myself. She jammed it into her back pocket with her iPhone and gave me a quick hug.

"I miss her," she breathed, barely audible, as her arms circled around me briefly. I nodded and she ran off. I leaned on Rosalie's car for a moment to keep myself together.

It wasn't cloudy yet, as Dad had predicted on his radio show that it would be later in the day. He'd had that radio show since I was about fourteen... A few weeks after Mom first came back from her doctor's appointment with the news. He'd been a general practitioner at a local health facility, but as soon as our finances had started dwindling, he went hunting for a second job. He talked his way into a position on a radio show as a health and nutrition specialist, giving the people in the Seattle area and beyond their daily nutritional and healthful information. He still did house calls in Forks. He'd tried so hard to give Mom everything she'd needed. It wasn't enough. No amount of money in the world could fix her.

I took one more calming breath before pushing myself off the car and heading toward school. As I reached the door, I felt a familiar buzz from my pocket. I had a new text from Edward Cullen.

_ Hello?_

I looked back at the parking lot, expecting to see him lurking around, creeping me from a distance. Seniors littered the benches on the lawn, a bunch of juniors were circled around their cars, and a few sophomores sat on the steps to the door. No freshmen loitered anywhere. No Edward Cullen creeping me. I was sure that he didn't know it was my number. _Hey, are you okay?_ I'd read those words on my screen and heard them so many times in the past few months that I'd grown familiar with them. They were tattooed in my eardrum, and _I'm fine_ tattooed on my tongue. If I heard them from someone's mouth, I'd look up, expecting them for me. These particular ones weren't for me, but they felt that way anyway. He didn't know it was Isabella Swan reading his concern. I decided to text him back, craving the anonymity.

_ You may have the wrong number. But no, I'm not okay._

It felt good to finally be honest with someone. I hadn't told anyone that I wasn't okay since that day with Jane back before the wake. I walked to my locker, my cell phone a brick in my pocket. Nervousness trickled into my stomach, emitting unsettling, eerie warmth. He might've known it was my number. He was a friend of Jasper's. Jasper could've given him my number if he wanted it. I didn't see why, but a lot of people I normally didn't talk to contacted me after my mother died. They'd tried to comfort me with words. I accepted their words graciously, wholeheartedly. It amazed me how caring and lovely people could be, people who hadn't even been friend with me. Their words had made me feel special, but had done little to console me. The only words that could console me would come from my mother.

The halls were filled with people hugging each other after three long months of not giving a shit about each other. I laughed to myself. I'd stayed in touch with the only people I wanted to. I didn't need to put up a front about whom I liked and whom I didn't. I stayed in touch with the people I wanted to. I allowed for no pretenses in that regard. I took all of notebooks out of my bag except my Honors Calculus and AP English books. I also left my mom's camera for my photography elective. My phone buzzed again.

_ Hmm… This isn't Alice? Who is this? What's wrong?_

He couldn't mean Alice Brandon. He and Alice were always together. I thought they went out at one point, too. That's what I'd heard at least. And they always showed up at parties together. I couldn't see how he wouldn't have her number, unless she got a new one.

I felt a trill up my spine at my own anonymity. I felt like I could say anything. I didn't have to say the F word this time. He didn't know who I was. I could maybe be me for a little while. I was getting an iPhone soon. I'd have a new number in a few weeks. I was supposed to have an iPhone now, but I'd given my phone update to Jane for her birthday last month. I contemplated what to reply. I typed and retyped the message a bunch of times.

_ Not Alice. _

He responded right away.

_ Well, Not Alice, what's wrong?_

I was leaning against my locker when the first warning bell rang. I started toward Honors Calculus, alternating my eyes from the screen to my route.

_ I'm sad._

Again, he fired back with an immediate response. I stood outside my classroom, waiting for the second warning bell.

_ Me too. Are you going to tell me your name?_

_Me too_, he'd replied. I suddenly felt horrible. I had my anonymity, but he only had the pretense of his. I knew who he was. He didn't know that I knew.

_ No. You don't want to know me._

I replied, turning the phone on silent and stepping into the classroom. I grinned at Jake and went to stand next to him in the back of the classroom to wait for seating assignments.

"Hey, where were you this morning? We were all in the cafeteria waiting for you," he gave me a light kiss on my top lip. I smiled into his lips and closed me eyes, breathing in his smell. He always smelled like drift wood and… peppermint. He always smelled oddly like peppermint. "Well, someone's happy to see me, he breathed, breaking away from my smile. I chuckled.

"I was dealing with Jane," I waved my hand, pushing away my words with a conjured breeze. "She didn't have lunch money." Jake squinted his eyes.

"Please tell me you didn't give her all your money," he brought a hand to my face, and I turned into his tanned-skin hand. He always felt strong, with broad shoulders and tough skin that tingled my fragile skin when he touched me.

"No, I kept some," I answered, knowing that five dollars really couldn't get me a lot. I was never hungry anyway, only for breakfast.

"Good. You need to eat more," he pointed out, grabbing my wrist and wrapping his long fingers fully around my limb. I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms, and took my face out of his hand. We didn't have many tender moments like that, and he ruined it. He always managed to ruin it.

"I'll eat what I want to eat, Jake," I seethed in a whisper, and took a step away from him.

"Couldn't you just listen to me for once?" he grumbled, crossing his own arms. I didn't answer him.

Mr. Banner came in and went straight to assigning seats, no bullshit. Jake got called second and took a seat in the front of the classroom. I got called second to last and got seated in the back of the classroom next to Angela Webber. Angela Webber was one of my closest friends. She'd been to my mom's wake both days, all day, and came to the funeral mass. She'd simply texted me _I love you_ when she found out about my mom. I'd invited her to the crematory chapel for last goodbyes.

"I'm so nervous for this class," she told me when she sat down next to me. "Everyone says that Calculus is a bitch and a half." I laughed, and pointed to me temple.

"I got this," I boasted. Then she laughed, and I joined. Angela could always make me laugh. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and noticed a new message. It was from Edward.

_ Don't you wanna know who I am?_

I glanced at Banner who was handing out course syllabuses for the first person in each row to pass back. I typed in a response that I may or may not regret.

_ No._

__**A/N: I think she does. :P What would you buy if you had the last five dollars in the world?**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**From Where You Are**

_I miss the years that were erased._

_I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face._

_I miss all the little things. I never thought that they'd mean everything to me._

_Yeah, I miss you,_

_And I wish you_

_were here._

**BPOV**

I didn't look at my phone through most of Calculus. I was contemplating this weird new connection. I'd never really ever talked to Edward Cullen before. It wasn't that

I disliked him or anything of that nature. Our circles just never linked. I tried to think of his circle of friends while Banner tried to get us excited about Calculus.

I hated when teachers did that. No one I knew would have taken Calculus if it wasn't the only honors math for seniors. Non-honors math was basically a repeat of Trigonometry that they called Pre-Calculus. Then AP math was all that was left, and I wasn't going to take AP math.

So, while Banner tried to make Calculus as appealing as possible, I thought about Edward and ignored the twitch in my palm that begged me to check my phone.

Edward Cullen's obvious best friend was Alice Brandon, or so I'd thought. He hadn't even realized that he was texting me. A small, worm of a thought inched through my brain's grooves. It popped its head out of my apple brain, and wondered why Edward Cullen would ask Alice if she was okay. I let the worm continue to inch around and continued my own assessment. He was good friends with Jasper. I knew that for sure. They'd been good friends before Rose and Jasper had become a thing. Rose had mentioned hanging out with him a few times, but she'd never elaborated.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember whom Edward Cullen hung around in the halls or at parties. I sometimes saw him with his cousin at parties, but Emmett went to an all boys private school at the edge of town. He was massive, from what I could remember. I didn't know what they fed those private school kids, but Emmett Cullen was as muscular as they came and taller than most. He was a little intimidating and disarming. I'd only spoken to him once, as a sophomore. We'd been at an ABC party at Tyler Crowley's place while his parents were at a veterinary conference in Seattle. He'd scared the shit out of me. From what little I could remember of that night, I did remember that I'd been dancing on a table, very drunk because I had just started my journey in the world of alcohol, when I slipped. These huge arms grabbed me. I'd literally screamed.

"Hands off the merch, creep," I'd slurred at the stranger, no pretense of any manners on my part when he'd just gone out of his way to catch my drunken ass. He chuckled in an incredibly deep voice and placed me on my feet. He was wearing some garbage bag. Most boys took to wearing garbage bags to 'Anything But Clothes' parties because they were easy. Girls went practically ballistic for ABC parties. It was sort of like Halloween, but more creative. To this particular one, one of my firsts, I'd worn clothes. I didn't think that anyone actually wore 'anything but clothes.' Lesson learned.

"Where's your costume, anyway?" He'd asked in that deep voice of his, ignoring my slicing comment.

I vaguely remembered saying something like, "In yours," because he was wearing a trash bag, before bumping into another person and forgetting the rest of the night. That was my only encounter with Emmett Cullen as far as I could remember.

"Bella," Angela whispered my way. I opened my eyes to find half the class staring at me. I guess I'd been called on. Mr. Banner was glaring at me.

"Well?" he questioned, fanning his hands out before him. I heard Angela whisper something and automatically repeated it.

"Well… pi times constant, k, over two," I answered as confidently as I could. I glanced over at Jake who smirked my way. I let myself smile back. We weren't supposed to be learning on the first day of class. Banner nodded and turned to write what I'd answered on the board. "Thanks," I breathed to Angela. She nodded and giggled. "What are we doing anyway?'

"Reviewing. He already finished going over the syllabus." I checked my watch and realized I wasn't wearing one, so I looked at the wall clock. We still had fifteen minutes left of this class.

"He moves fast," I grimaced. She nodded again. "Fuck." I wasn't going to enjoy this class. I could only hope that English would save me next period.

"Bella," she whispered again, and I automatically looked up at Banner. He wasn't expecting an answer from me this time. I inclined my head toward Angela, keeping my unfocused sight on Banner. "Your bag is lighting up." I dropped my gaze to my bag and noticed that it was, indeed, lighting up. I slid my phone into my lap, discreetly maneuvering it out of my glowing bag and out of Banner's view. I had three new messages: all from Edward Cullen.

_No? Yes, you do._

_ Can we play twenty questions? I'll go first._

_ I know that you live in Forks from your area code. Are you Mike Newton?_

I bit my lip. I could be Mike Newton for all he knew. It was a strange guess for him, considering Mike and he were socially polar opposites. Mike was sort of a class clown. Edward Cullen was… I didn't really know. He was just there, always kind of quiet and brooding. I tried to think of a question that I didn't already know the answer to and wouldn't give me away.

_ Totally wrong gender. Do you like penis?_

I bit back a laugh and waited for a response.

Well, it wasn't something I didn't know, but it was funny and would get the whole gender question out of the way. I still didn't get a response when the bell rang. I got to thinking that maybe he did like penis. Maybe that was why he was sad. Maybe he wanted to come out of the closet. I stuffed my phone into my bag as I packed my Calculus book.

"What do you have next?" Angela asked, packing up books of her own.

"AP English." My cheeks fought gravity with a smile as I thought about that class.

"Second floor, main?" she asked, aware of the English department's monopoly of that section of the school.

Forks High School was pretty easy to map out. Four floors of learning and teaching shot into the sky that were split into two sections: the main building and the wing building. The main building was the original school, built in 1935 for all the youth of Forks. The wing building was fairly modern and was built in 1997 when people in a neighboring town started seeking life in Forks. Those La Push nomads, including Jake's family, started moving in by the dozen around the time I was born. Charlie always said that they'd all flocked to see me, the most beautiful baby girl in the world. I used to believe him.

"Of course," I affirmed as I slung my bag over my shoulders, hardly adding any weight to their sunken shape.

"I'll walk you. I'm taking Poetry as my elective," she offered. I was more than willing to keep her company. I didn't even glance at Jake as we left the classroom.

"So, poetry, huh? That's gonna be a pretty awesome class, I bet," I said to the back of her head as we walked single file through a skinny hallway. She turned her head back marginally to let me know she heard me.

"Yeah, I'm actually kind of surprised you didn't take it. I thought you dabbled in poetry," she observed, turning to face me fully as we came upon a wider pathway. I didn't meet her gaze. I'd originally planned to take that class. I didn't just dabble in poetry. I breathed it. I fed from it, but only nibbled at it where my friends were concerned. My poetry was personal. I'd been ecstatic when it'd been offered as an elective, but then I'd seen Photography and remembered my mom. I couldn't turn down a chance to be more like her, to have another part of her with me. So, I let my poetry rest inside the plastic of my pen and the walls of my regularly beating heart.

"Well, I've always wanted to try taking pictures that mean something." It wasn't a lie.

"Well, if you ever wanna show me some of that poetry of yours, I'd be more than willing," she offered, stopping at the entrance of what I assumed to be her class. My cheeks pulled up into a smile, a puppeteer going to town on his puppet's dormant, lifeless face. Angela didn't notice my reluctance. I prided myself on being Houdini, someone who could make a smile appear out of thin air or my sadness disappear just as fast.

"Good to know," I beamed, knowing I would never show anyone my poems. No one could find them where I hid them, not even Chuck Norris. "See you at lunch, if not sooner." We parted ways with her farewell, and I stepped into my AP English class.

I immediately scanned the room for a friendly face. Well, most faces were friendly to me. I wasn't one to keep to myself in social circumstances. Still, some faces stood out among others. I found a few: Ben, Tyler, and Jess.

"Umbrella Bella!" Tyler shouted. I could hardly tame my smile. He'd taken to calling me that since I'd worn a cleverly placed and taped umbrella skirt and quasi-top to an ABC party at my house in June. "I didn't know you were in this class," he mused, waving me over to stand with him and the others.

"I'm sorry I ever wore those umbrellas...," I muttered when I reached the group.

A collective laugh swung around the small circle we made.

"Don't be," Jess opposed, plaiting her brown, curly hair into a braid. "That's still, like, the best costume I've seen at an ABC." Her eyes took on a distant look. "Remember when this guy over here," she elbowed Ben, "wore a bunch of tree clippings?" Another laugh swung around the group. Ben just shrugged. He was kind of a quiet kid, but funny as hell whenever he did speak up.

"You're so lucky there weren't red ants on those branches," I said, suddenly getting that crawling feeling. I cringed.

"Oh, man, that'd be rough on your junk," Tyler grimaced. I took an involuntary glance at Ben's crotch. Jessica did, too, and Ben's ears were volcanic.

"Anyway," I began, trying to throw us off that topic. "How was cheerleading camp, Jess?" Jess's face lit up, but Mrs. Cope strolled through the door.

"Good morning, everyone," she greeted. "Let's get ourselves situated." She started putting us in alphabetical order. Ben and Tyler were called first, being Cheney and Crowley, respectively. Students slowly dragged themselves to a chair, and the group thinned. "Jessica Stanley," Mrs. Cope called. I began moving to my seat behind her before "Isabella Swan" was called.

I didn't know much about Mrs. Cope. She seemed a bit disorganized, but determined. It was a bit of an unsettling combination. Her blonde hair was basically white, age smothering her youth. She handed out a course syllabus, speaking about her expectations for the class this year.

We'd be reading a few books, but we'd mostly be preparing for the AP Exam.

That'd be a bitch to prepare for.

"I hate to say this," Mrs. Cope started, "but you'll all probably hate reading by the time this class is through. We're going to be analyzing and answering questions for so many passages of novels, plays, and poems, that you'll never want to read again." I really hoped that wouldn't happen. I'd gotten to reading really frequently.

Mrs. Cope glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, we have a bit of time. Why don't we go around the room, and you can tell me your name and something about you," she offered. My stomach housed baby pterodactyls, their wings scraping my stomach lining. I hated public speaking, public acknowledgement, public anything.

"Hi, I'm Ben. My parents own the deli next to Don's Hardware Store," Ben offered, of course, nothing of himself directly. I got the best bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches from that deli. They were delicious.

"Hey, I'm Tyler. I'm an Aquarius," Tyler introduced, winking in the direction of the only junior in the class, who, in turn, ripened like a tomato. I rolled my eyes.

With each introduction, the pterodactyls got angrier. It wasn't something I couldn't manage, but it was uncomfortable.

"Hey, I'm Jessica. I'm on the Cheer Squad," Jess said. Mrs. Cope nodded and looked to me. It was my turn. Everyone was expecting me to go next. I took a shaky breath.

"Hello, everyone...," I started awkwardly. Everyone laughed, thinking that I'd intended to be funny. My face flamed. "My name is Bella, and..." I hesitated. And my mom is dead. And I cry myself to sleep most nights. And I sometimes wish that I'd died instead of her so she could take care of Jane and Charlie. "I love to read." That was as vague an answer as I could muster.

"I'll remember all of your names one of these days," Cope sighed. "You can talk quietly until the bell rings." With that, Jessica immediately turned in her seat.

"Did you get my text?" I shook my head and smiled. I'd forgotten about Edward

Cullen. I glanced at Cope talking to this kiss-up girl who talked to every teacher after class. I kept my phone in my bag and checked it. I had two messages.

_ Uh, I like my penis. I mean, the one attached to my body. Do you go to Forks _

_High?_

I smiled, unabashedly, and Jess thought I smiled at her text.

"Am I right, or am I right?" she asked. I shrugged and brought up her message.

_ Tyler got cuter this summer._

I snorted and looked over at Tyler who was laughing with Ben across the room.

Jess and Tyler had had an on again, off again relationship since eighth grade.

Tyler had gone to Florida with his cousins For most of the summer, so they were off again.

"Oh, you know I'm right. You don't have to deny it just because you're with

Jake." I glared at her. She shrugged. "What? It's true."

"I never said he wasn't cute. I'm just not interested," I explained and went back to my phone.

_ I do. I'm guessing you do, too. How long are you going to ask me these questions?_

The bell rang, and I made my way to my next class: Photography.

**A/N: What would you dress in for an ABC party?**

**Stay classy,**

**erinjeni**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Every few chapters will be flashbacks. This is the first of them.**

Chapter Four

**Born and Raised**

_And all at once it gets hard to take._

_It gets hard to fake what I won't be_

_Cause one of these days I'll be born and raised_

_And it's such a waste to grow up lonely._

**BPOV**

**Two and a half years ago…**

"Girls?" Mom called out from the front door. I was upstairs in my room with a notebook, playing around with a few lines of a working poem.

"Leaves become dusted with yellow sun..." I muttered to myself, placing emphasis on different words and pausing between others to pinpoint the best way to break the line up. Jane answered Mom first.

"Up here," she yelled from her room across the hall. I rolled my eyes at the voice she used when she wanted something from one of our parents.

"Where's Jane?" Mom called from the bottom of the stairs. I sighed. She always mixed our voices up. If I called her at work, she'd call me Jane fifty percent of the time.

"This is Jane, Mom," she groaned, evidently feeling the same way I did. I could hear Mom's nervous laughter traveling up the staircase. I thought to speak up.

"Mom? Is everything okay?" I asked, getting up to walk to the top of the stairs, my poem left to shiver in my absence. Jane must have heard me leave my room, and came to stand by me.

"Come downstairs, girls. Dad and I... Well, we want to talk to you." Her voice faded as she walked away from the steps. I glanced at Jane, my brows scooping down over my eyes.

"What did you do?" I accused, desperately hoping that they hadn't found my vodka in the birdhouse, or under the porch, or in the old cooler in the backyard, or in the trunk in the garage. Jane gasped at me.

"Me? You're the wild child who hides liquor all over the house and stays at her boyfriend's house when she's supposed to be staying at Rosalie's," she accused.

I glared at her.

"I swear to God, Jane, if you said anything to them, I will take all if your stupid soccer trophies and take all the heads off," I threatened. She rolled her eyes and started downstairs.

"Yeah, okay," she laughed, knowing that I'd never do something like that because she was the soccer star and spoiled and Mom would kill me if I touched her precious trophies. "And I didn't say anything," she whispered. I followed after her into the living room to find Mom and Dad sitting on the love seat by the bay window. They gestured to the other couch for us to sit.

My heart was beating faster than the beat of a hummingbird's wings. My mind was coming up with excuses for anything that they could throw at me. 'I was holding it for a friend,' or 'I confiscated it from a freshman,' or 'We only stopped at

Jake's house for a little while,' or the classic 'I just fell asleep on his couch.' They all sounded so generic. Even if Dad fell for any of them, Mom never would.

Dad took Mom's hands in his, and let her start. "Do you remember the doctor's appointment I had the other day?" I nodded right away. Jane shook her head. She didn't keep track of much if it didn't involve her. She was lucky to have that privilege.

"Yeah, I made it for you, remember?" I called in the routine check-up for her while she was at a parent-teacher conference for her fifth grade class.

"Yes, I remember." She glanced at Dad before continuing. "Anyway, while I was there, they found... something, something in my breast." My entire being froze. I couldn't even move my lips to question her. They'd frosted over. Jane didn't say anything. My Dad squeezed her hand with one of his and covered his face with the other. "A lump," she explained. I looked over at Jane. She was crying. I didn't know what to do with myself.

"Breast c-cancer?" I stuttered. But she couldn't have cancer. She was healthy and beautiful and... my mom. She couldn't have cancer, but she nodded. Water pooled at the base of her eyes.

"Well, they weren't sure at first if it was malignant or if it had metastasized." she looked at Jane. "Malignant means dangerous. Metastasized means... spread all over," she explained for my eleven year old sister. "And we wanted to know what this was before telling you girls."

"And?" I whispered, fighting the branding burn behind my eyes that would mark this moment forever.

"I have stage three breast cancer," she confessed, finally letting her eyes drain the water they'd held back. Even Dad was crying behind his hand, while his other hand still gripped Mom's. I looked down at my shaking fingers, trying to beat back my sobs. But I was blindfolded and missed when I swung at them.

No longer did I care about the vodka or the sleepovers. "What... are... we... going... to do?" I asked between bone shattering sobs. Mom smiled through her tears.

"I'm going to fight as hard as I can. You can be sure as hell that I'll be doing the best I can to be here with you girls," she cried. I got off the couch an ran to her. Jane followed.

"I love you, Mom," I sobbed, squeezing her as tightly to me as I possibly could.

"I love you so much." We stayed like that for a long time, until we were ready to go to bed. If I'd known back then that my hugs with my mom would be numbered, that there would be a day when I'd never be able to touch her or hold her or see her or talk to her ever again, I'd have never let go. Instead, I walked upstairs with Jane, hugged her and cried myself to sleep for the first night of many to come.

**A/N: Review, please. I don't know if anyone's really reading or what anyone thinks. If this isn't your cup of tea, try my other story Who Am I? Or read both if you fancy. This all hits very close to home, so I cried when I wrote this. When was the last time you cried?**

**Read on,**

**Erin (erinjeni)**


End file.
